This Has Got To Stop
by Houseketeer
Summary: Time has passed, and House is in a established relationship with Cuddy. This has got to stop.  HouseCameron, smut.
1. Chapter 1

**This Has Got To Stop**

Cameron scans the file in her hands while he watches. "Wilson says pancreatic cancer."

She doesn't look up. "Wilson always says cancer."

"And you always say autoimmune."

"Not this time. There's nothing in this data that lets us differentiate between cancer and autoimmune pancreatitis. Did you try corticosteroids?"

"I'm talking to you first."

"If you have time, you're better off to do a biopsy and look for the DNA abnormalities."

"I have time."

"You know you have your own immunologist now, you—" she trailes off when his cell phone rings.

He looks at the caller id, and flips the phone open with an apologetic roll of his eyes. His tone is even more brusque than usual. "Hi. I'm in immunology for a consult. Yeah, fine, I can stop on the way home. No I don't need to get a pen. _Fine_." Cameron watches as he rifles through the items on her desk for a pen and pad. He scribbles as he repeats the shopping list. "Ready. Asparagus. Bread. _Fine_!" He scratches through "bread" and writes WHOLE GRAIN BREAD in large letters. "It's been sixth months; I know which bread you eat. Toilet paper, milk—you didn't even open the last carton—fine. That's it? Asparagus, bread, milk, toilet paper and I had to get a pen? I'll see you later. Bye." He flips the phone closed hard.

"How's Cuddy?" He gives her a look utterly devoid of amusement. "That bad huh?" He answers with a sarcastic expression. "Okay, well; you better go order that biopsy."

She turns to walk away, but his hand darts out and circles her bicep; slips down her arm until he is pulling her close to him by her wrist. "When."

"Friday."

His grip on her wrist tightens. "Too long."

"You can't tonight; I can't tomorrow. Friday."

House groans in dissatisfaction, then pulls her close aggressively for a long, deep kiss. His hands slide over her back, one cupping her ass, the other tangling in her hair. "Friday then." 

o O o O o O o

House lays the purchases in a row on the kitchen counter, so that she'll be able to see at a glance that he completed the task. _Fuck you, I got it right._ He rests his hand on the toilet paper as he debates leaving it here or putting it away. If he puts it away, she'll nag after whether he's purchased it. If he leaves it here, she will nag that it was not put away. The only way to avoid a confrontation is to stand here touching it; she sees he's arrived with it, and is on his way to put it away.

He hears the clack of her heels and turns, clutching the toilet paper. "I'll just put this away."

"Okay." She glanced over his purchases. "Dinner in ten minutes."

"Great."

He drops off the toilet paper on the way to the living room and immediately turns on the Wii. "Wii would like to play," he informs the menu. He flips on tennis and starts a game. He gets into it, slashing his wii-mote boldly through the air; crushing the opposition.

All too soon she is here to interrupt. "Dinner is ready."

"Can I--just a minute ok?"

"The asparagus will get cold."

The wii-mote keeps moving. "Well I'm not that fond of asparagus anyway." He makes a spectacular backhand save. "Did you see that!" He turns to face her with a huge grin that deflates when it lands on her glower.

"Okay, dinner." He drops the the controller and follows her to the table like a chastized dog. 

o O o

He looks down at his plate, and wonders when things got so bad. When had he started submitting, just to avoid confrontation with her, just to avoid her grating voice. The meal is comprised entirely of things he would not only not pick out, but can't stand: salmon in mustard sauce, couscous and asparagus. He finds it hard not to sneer.

He watches her take silent, dainty bites. He estimates that in three bites she will attempt to jumpstart conversation by asking him something; he heads her off at the pass. "How was work?"

She groans. "Well. The company that handles our hazard disposal is raising their rates by precipitously, so I was in meetings all day taking bids. You wouldn't believe..."

She continues as he tunes her out. He watches her face and nods in a practiced mimicry of attention, takes occasional bites of her pathetic excuse for food. Meanwhile, his mind wanders:

_Why am I with her? What am I getting out of this--nothing. Why did I even get myself into this? Oh yeah--sex. Well that's not a reason at this point is it! It would be messy; leaving would be too messy. She's my fucking boss. You can't leave your fucking boss. I knew from the fucking start this would end shitty and now it has. If your reason for not leaving her is to avoid a hassle, then you're worse than pathetic. Of course what would Cameron think if you were single? It might scare her off--_

"Are you listening?"

This question shakes him from his reverie. His brow furrows. "Yeah, I just didn't understand that last bit."

"You don't understand why I think we should go away for a weekend?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it. "Well, it would be impossible to plan because I never know if we'll have a case."

"That's why I said that we should just plan to spontaneously go the next weekend you're free."

"Oh." He looks at her looking at him; she knows he hasn't been listening; he knows she knows, and she knows he knows she knows. And neither does anything about it. _I should not be getting away with this. Why is she even with me?_

She sighs and cocks her head to the side. "Are you done eating?"

He notices her empty plate and looks down at his own; it's still half full. "Yes, thank you." 

o O o

They don't live together, and they aren't together every night. On nights like these there is a certain pressure to do something together. As usual they end up on the couch, watching television. As usual she holds the remote. He could have it; he could choose whatever program he wanted and get away with it, but he'd have to hear her objection. Early in their relationship he had enjoyed the fact he could get away with anything if he simply paid the price of hearing her nag. Now he'd watch anything if she would _just shut up_.

She selects a Lifetime movie, and his first thought is _LIFETIME MOVIE?_ But he says nothing. He's just grateful for two hours of anything but himself holding her attention, anything that distracts her. As the dramatic conclusion of the film draws near, she curls against his side with her head on his chest, and he has no choice but to catalog all the differences between her and Cameron. It starts off with the purely physical, like the fact she seems rigid and destructible where Cameron is pliant and permanent. She smells different; whatever she uses in her hair makes it crunchy. More importantly he dwells on the fact he doesn't want her. He doesn't want to talk to her; he doesn't want to touch her, and he certainly doesn't want to fuck her.

The movie ends, and she makes her move. Arm wrapped around his chest, she tips up her chin for him to kiss. He kisses her, but when she moves to deepen it he pulls back. "I'm tired. I think I'm just gonna grab a shower and pass out." He gives her a final, quick kiss. "Good movie."

"Okay."

He ignores the obvious disappointment in her voice, and heads for the bathroom. Under the warm spray he pushes _her_ and _you have to leave her_ from his thoughts. He closes his eyes, and pictures Cameron. Cameron smiling at him over the rim of a martini glass. Cameron tipping her chin down and looking at him skeptically through her eyelashes over a patient's file. Cameron pulling her top over her head as she lowers herself to her knees between his parted thighs.

He stands with one hand on his hard cock, one hand bracing his weight on the wall. Obviously it's non-ideal to have to do this standing in the shower, but it's his only option tonight. He fucks his hand with long, tight strokes; uses his thumb on the head, and thinks of Cameron.

His first thought is of the last time they showered together.

_He was running soapy hands over her pale, wet skin, and he started to get hard. Her hand slipped down his chest to grip his hard on. "Again? Already?" He gave an embarrassed nod. "Impressive," she murmured. She increased the pace and strength of her touch, and he groaned and bucked into her hand. "Good?" she asked. His eyes rolled back in his head and he grunted in answer. "Come for me," she said. "I love watching you come."_

He adjusts from his standard technique to make it feel more like when Cameron does it. He has to bite his lip to keep silent as he comes. He watches the white fluid swirl and dissipate in the water, and flow down the drain. Cameron wouldn't have let that happen. She had dropped to her knees to catch it in her open mouth. 

o O o

When he climbs between the sheets, she says, "That was a long shower." He makes a non-commital grunt and closes his eyes. Until he manages to fall asleep, the thoughts repeat in his head: _You have to leave her; you have to leave her; you have to leaver her. This has got to stop._

To be continued. 


	2. Chapter 2

**This Has Got To Stop**

Thursday lunch with Wilson at the cafe down the street has become a tradition. Wilson texted ahead instructing him to order; he's running a few minutes late. He arrives just as the food does, looking rushed. "Sorry about that, you'll never believe where I was this morning."

"Well I'm sure you're going to tell me." He lifts his Ruben and takes a large bite. He's almost relieved Wilson has a conversational monopoly planned, or he'd end up talking about leaving Cuddy.

"Chase asked me to go with him to the jewelry store. Engagement ring shopping."

The news hits House like a round-house kick to the chest. "Well you are the local expert on foolish engagements."

Wilson gives House his classic puzzled look. "What makes you say this is a foolish engagement?"

"Just, whatever. Tell your story." House massages his forehead in a futile attempt to ward of his coming stress headache. He pops two Vicodin.

"Well we went to the counter, and he was pretty clueless. I think he thought he should just get the most expensive thing he could afford."

"But you set him straight."

"I mean he was looking at _yellow gold bands_."

This joke goes over House's head, but at least he can tell it is one, and laughs half-heartedly. "Amateur." 

"Exactly! He didn't even know what kind of setting she'd like. But I think you can never go wrong with a solitaire. Two carats, simple but elegant platinum setting." House looks at him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. How's he going to ask her?"

"He's taking her out to dinner tonight--the whole down on one knee in a crowded restaurant thing. I did that once--"

House interjects, shocked. "He's asking her tonight?!"

"Yeah..." Wilson observes him a moment. "That reaction is not normal. What's going on?"

This time House massages his entire weary face. "Nothing. It's just they got together just before we did, and I haven't even considered proposing."

Wilson shrugs. "You're not Chase."

"No. I'm not."

o O o O o O o

He comes in and sits across from Cameron at her desk. She's charting, and when she finishes the line she's on she looks up and beams at him. He hands her the biopsy results.

"Hmm, well it's not cancer. I'd start the corticosteroids. But of course you already know that."

"He's responding well to treatment."

She grins. "See. It's always autoimmune." He smiles and shakes his head at her. "So why are you really here?"

He shrugs. "Friday is too long."

This makes her smile. "I'm afraid it's non-negotiable."

"You could cancel..."

She shakes her head and looks to the ceiling. It jostles her hair and he sighs; she's so fucking beautiful. "I can't do that to him. He seems really excited about tonight. It would break his heart."

So she doesn't want to break his heart. Not the best sign for her turning Chase down tonight. "It wasn't a serious suggestion. I just miss you."

"I miss you too."

"I wonder what makes tonight unusual." He is trying to lead her, see if she suspects it. "Is it an anniversary of anything?"

She snorts. "If it is, I don't remember." This seems promising; she sounds very unromantic about him. "It's not the anniversary of our first time, or our second 'first' time, or me going to him and saying it's Tuesday, or any other little anniversary I remember."

Nope. Not promising. "He seems very devoted."

"So does Cuddy."

He wants to tell her he's considering leaving Cuddy, but it's absolutely the wrong time. It would be wrong to ever make her choose between himself and Chase; diabolical to do it on the night he's about to propose—unless he knew she was going to refuse him. He tries to be indirect. "Yeah, sometimes I worry she wants to be married…"

"I know Chase does."

That's good enough for him. She wouldn't stay with Chase, knowing that he wants forever, without wanting to marry him. House nods. He tries to think of a graceful way out of this conversation; there really isn't one. He is saved by his ringing cell phone. He points to it, rises, and steps out of her office. He wishes he'd known the last time he kissed her was the last time ever; he won't be involved with her after the engagement.

He doesn't answer Cuddy's call, but sets off for her office.

o O o O o O o

He's interrupted by heavy knocking, loud enough to be heard over the piano. His body instantly goes on alert—elevated heart rate and respiration—adrenaline. _There's only one reason for her to be here_, is his first thought. As he carries his scotch to the door, his negativity proposes a long list of alternate reasons for her presence, and alternate visitors to have come knocking. _Don't get your hopes up because you don't have a snowball's chance in hell._

He opens the door to find Cameron glaring, fuming mad. "Dinner went that well?"

She storms past him into his entryway. "You knew!"

"Excuse me?" Even if playing dumb doesn't work; playing it cool can't be a mistake.

"It's two carats, but I bet you knew that too." Her tone is accusative, and he has no idea what to say.

"Bit ostentatious, I agree. Maybe he's compensating for something."

"The moment he opened the box, all I could think about was you coming to see me this afternoon. You can't keep doing this! You ruined my proposal—maybe even my marriage—I can't be your back-up plan. I can't keep waiting around for you!"

"I didn't tell you to."

"No, I told me to. But it's getting old."

He stares into his scotch glass. He had no idea she felt that way. If he had, he could've handled all this better. Now maybe it was too late. "You're not my back-up plan. I—What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to say you want me for yourself, I want you to tell me to tell Chase to go fuck himself. I want you to leave Cuddy!"

"I left Cuddy this afternoon, and if you tell Chase to go fuck himself, I hope I get to watch."

Her eyes widen and she falls silent, staring at him in disbelief. She closes the distance between them, wraps her arms around him and presses her cheek to his chest. "Well I didn't use those exact words, but I think he got the jist."

He tips her chin up so he can look her in the eyes. "It's over?"

She blinks and nods, and he crushes his mouth to hers. She's finally _his_, and the thought has him straining against his jeans. He slides his hands down her back and pulls her flush against him as he kisses her, pressing her body against him so she can feel it.

She touches him; delicately strokes his length through the denim. He is still kissing her, and she sucks his tongue into her mouth as she pulls down his zipper. Her hand slides into his boxers and wraps around his warm shaft; strokes it to full hardness.

House breaks the kiss, "Fuck Cameron."

She looks up at him as she continues to slide her hand up and down. She moves her lips—doesn't speak but he can read the words--_All mine_.

He grips her wrist; hurries her motions without taking his eyes off hers. He's shaking from having her do this while he stands. He pulls her wrist, making his cock slip through her warm fingers, and leads her to the bedroom. 

They pull off each other's clothes. They've done this many times before but this time is different, more free. There is a distinct lack of urgency because they have forever; there is no one to rush home to. They can fuck all night.

Cameron sits on the edge of the bed and slides back, her dark hair spread out on his pillow. On his stomach he crawls between her bent knees and slides up to kiss her again. She loves the way he lets most of his weight rest on her as he kisses her, runs his hands over her pale skin.

He presses the head of his hard-on to her entrance, and she is so wet for him that he slides into her balls-deep in one smooth motion. He fucks her slow and deep, his eyes never leaving hers. He loves watching her reaction; watching her face contort in reaction to what he does to her. On every stroke she rocks her hips up to meet him, then tightens around him as he pulls out.

Without noticing, they both start to move faster; they can't get enough of each other. She stares into his eyes as she brings her fingers to her mouth and licks them, then lowers them to rub her own clit. Seconds later her cunt is fluttering around him, and he is slamming into her hard, coming inside her.

He rolls over and pulls her pliant body to his; she wraps herself around him. The thought _two proposals in one day would be a bit much_ passes through his mind, and this worries him. When he looks down at her, he is instantly calmed. He won't ask her tonight; he might never, but the idea of forever with her is not at all alarming. _I can do this_, he thinks, and falls asleep in her arms.

FIN


End file.
